


it's been a long, long time

by skywalkerz



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Family Fluff, M/M, Superfamily (Marvel), literally just cliche fluffy steve/tony w/ peter as their son, nat/bucky on the side, pretty much another stereotypical superdads fic yknow, superdads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 09:37:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19060033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skywalkerz/pseuds/skywalkerz
Summary: “I’ll get the kid if you start coffee.” He states, voice just as scratchy and rough.It’s not even a question for Tony. “Deal.”And that is how Wednesday, and most mornings, begin in their household.





	it's been a long, long time

**Author's Note:**

> GOSH i know this is so unoriginal........i was babysitting the other day and naturally just couldnt stop thinkin bout steve/tony in dad mode......so i guess enjoy the cliche-ness of it all!!!!!!

Wednesday morning could consist of many things, Tony ponders dreamfully. His reality, however, is the fact that it is probably nearing 6 in the morning, he is awake (unfortunately), and there is a screaming toddler in the room across from his and Steve’s. 

“Mmph. Steve.” Tony’s voice is raspy from sleep. Steve is obviously awake from the yelling, as he immediately groans in response.

“I’ll get the kid if you start coffee.” He states, voice just as scratchy and rough. 

It’s not even a question for Tony. “Deal.”

And that is how Wednesday, and most mornings, begin in their household. 

/// 

 

Tony is still half asleep as he fiddles with the coffee maker, shoving the pot back into place as he flicks the switch on and the machine starts to steam immediately, thankfully. 

He leans against the counter, fighting every urge not to collapse right there on the tile floor. When he looks at the microwave, and the time reads 6:36, Tony is sure he is in purgatory. 

 

And here’s the thing: Tony always thinks Steve is beautiful. Steve is beautiful after battles, after going for his morning jog, after sex, when he’s angry, and everything else under the sun.  
And while Steve is always gorgeous to Tony, he’s definitely seen some better days.  
Because after a moment, Steve emerges from upstairs, Peter on his hip, and fuck, if he doesn’t look like a zombie. He’s got dark bags under his eyes, nearly bruising. His complexion is pale and his hair hasn’t been shaped in probably two years since they brought Peter home. Steve’s got two different socks on, and Peter is currently trying to stick his Black Widow action figure in Steve’s ear canal. 

Steve seems absolutely unphased by the whole ordeal, and if that doesn’t sum up parenthood, Tony doesn’t know what does. 

Steve goes through the motions of placing Peter in his high chair, strapping him in, and dragging himself to the cupboard for cheerios. He throws some into a bowl that Peter has a 100% chance of just tipping over and places the cereal in front of his son. Once Peter is concentrated at the new task at hand, the Black Widow doll falls to the floor with a slap. Steve kneads his palms into his eyes, attempting to rub the sleep out. 

He drags himself back to the coffee machine and drops his head on Tony’s shoulder.  
“You smell like…urine.” Tony configures finally, running a hand across Steve’s spine and then through his bed head hair. That poor hair hasn’t seen a comb in days. 

“Are you surprised?” Steve refuses to move his head from Tony’s neck; instead, he just wraps his arms around Tony’s hips and contently leans against him. 

“Not really. But is it you or is it from Peter?”

“Ha ha. Give me coffee if you wanna see the rest of your day.” Steve threatens, although his voice is far too sleepy and strained to be intimidating.

Tony laughs lightly, abs still hurting from where Pete jumped on him last night before bed.

Peter squeals from the high chair and Steve groans when he hears the sound of cheerios scattering the kitchen floor. 

“Peterrrrrrr. Noooooo.” He groans into Tony’s shoulder, voice almost monotone from pure defeat.

“I got it, baby. Coffee’s done brewing.” Tony gently says, pushing a mug into Steve’s hands, to which he grabs eagerly. Steve thanks him with a kiss on the cheekbone. Tony feels his chest tighten, still – still, after all these years, after all these years of cheekbone kisses he gets from Steve. 

He strides over to Peter, who is speaking in classic baby jargon, waving his arms frantically, and Tony gives him a fond smile. 

“Little man, they’re supposed to go in your mouth,” Tony wipes drool off Peter’s chin with his thumb, and then goes to retrieve the broom (which is now always, thankfully, in close proximity). He sweeps up all the cheerios and tosses them, coming back with froot loops this time. He pours a few in front of Peter and watches him repeat the motions again.

Tony is tired. Tony is sleep deprived and usually cranky. Tony hasn’t gotten laid in exactly 13 days. Tony has gotten used to drool on his forearms and getting sneezed and coughed on. 

But Tony is happy. Tony has a family. Tony and Steve find time to have movie nights and cuddle and brush their teeth side by side still, and it’s enough for the time being. Tony gets to watch from the doorway when Steve reads Peter “Goodnight Moon” for the 8th time that week. 

When breakfast is finished, and Tony and Steve have consumed 3 pots of coffee between the two of them, Steve finds Peter babbling in his high chair and scoops him up in his arms. Peter rests his head against Steve’s shoulder and grins. Tony’s heart clenches and he wonders what he used to be before any of this. 

“I say – a day at Nat and Buck’s house.” Steve states eventually, eyes half lidded from exhaustion, and Tony agrees with a smile. 

///

“My little man!” Bucky all but cheers when Tony, Steve, and Peter walk towards the front door.  
Peter is squealing, attempting to hurdle towards Bucky, but his short, stumpy legs and unbalanced gait only get him so far before he’s tripping over himself and falling palms first on the driveway.  
Bucky is immediately scooping him up; Peter may be too starstruck by his ‘uncle’ to even care about potential injuries.

“Baby, let me see your hands,” Tony ‘overprotective parent’ Stark jogs up to Pete in Bucky’s arms and gently pries his palms up. Peter giggles and claps his hands together as Tony sighs in relief.

“Please, Uncle Bucky wouldn’t dare let this punk get hurt on his watch.”

“That’s what Nat always says, and yet he came home with a bleeding lip last time.” Tony retorts, deadpanned expression on his face. 

Bucky scoffs, and bounces Peter on his hip with one arm, and gestures wildly with the other. “He wanted to try rockband! The drumsticks are weapons, completely her fault, though.” 

Steve eventually catches up to them, looking like a classic new dad with his arms full of Peter’s things. 

“Where’s Natasha?” Steve asks, after kissing Peter on the cheek and clapping Bucky on the back. 

“Probably last-minute Peter-proofing the house.” Bucky grins. Classic Nat. 

Sure enough, when they all enter the house, Nat is finishing her protection for Peter by putting the rockband drumsticks on a high shelf and putting some cords behind the TV. 

“Baby boy!” She all but coos at Peter, and she holds her hands out to him. It was weird seeing this side of Nat with Peter initially, but now, Steve and Tony are all kinds of grateful for her likeness to children. 

Peter leans into her reach and she takes him from Bucky with delight. She snuggles him close and peppers his cheeks in kisses. 

“I can’t wait to finally kidnap you from your idiot dads.” She says to him in her perfected baby voice. 

Tony practically sighs in relief. “Good! Would finally give me and my sunshine here some alone time.” He wraps an arm around Steve’s waist and draws him in tightly, their hips knocking together.

“You know we’d take him any day of the week,” Bucky scoffs, leaning in to tickle underneath Peter’s arm. He giggles in response -- not uncommon when you place Peter around Uncle Bucky.

“I think Stevie’s got some separation anxiety,” Tony defends, lovingly looking over to Steve, who is sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.

Natasha bounces Peter a couple times in her arms and smiles at the two fondly. “Well, whenever you guys can handle it, and need some extra lovin’,” she smirks, “We would be happy to corrupt your beautiful son for a weekend.” 

These days at Nat and Buck’s absolutely fill Tony’s heart. Seeing Bucky balance Peter in all sorts of ways: on top of his shoulders, on one shoulder, bouncing him on his knees at the table. Watching Natasha tickle Peter until he’s squealing, watching him fall asleep on her chest, soft breaths escaping his lips. Most importantly, something in Tony’s chest clenches when he sees Steve, passed out on the couch with his knees nearly tucked into his chest. It happens without fail every single time when they head to their friends’ house. Steve and Tony pawn their sweet baby over and Steve manages to always catch up on some extra sleep. 

Eventually, late in the afternoon, Nat is helping Tony gather up Peter and his belongings and tucking him into his car seat as he sleeps soundly. 

“Thanks, Tasha.” Tony says softly, admiring his sleeping son. 

“Please, anything for him. You, not so much.” She jokes. 

Nat runs a hand along Pete’s head as Tony stands up and walks over to the couch. 

He sits on the edge of couch, barely able to fit as Steve’s sprawled body takes up a majority of the space. Tony runs a hand along Steve’s spine and gives a light tap on his shoulder.

“Steve. Baby. Hey.” He shakes lightly again. “Sweetheart, time to go.”

The late autumn sun is trickling through the window and casting a beautiful light on Steve’s cheeks and blonde hair and Tony finds himself falling in love over and over again in that single moment. 

Steve stirs, the same way he always does. Eyes bleary, squeezing shut before fluttering open. His arms stretch almost in slow motion and he kicks both legs out, all his joints popping almost alarmingly. 

Steve reaches a hand up and cups one of Tony’s cheeks. “Is Pete ready to go?” His voice is so groggy and so sweet. Tony nods, placing his hand over Steve’s. 

“Mhm, he’s good to go.” 

Steve nods and manages to hoist himself up. He stretches once more before finding Bucky in the kitchen to say goodbye. He takes the car seat from Natasha and gives her a kiss on the cheek. She makes a comment about their nonexistent sex life and something about a future zoo trip. (Tony is too focused on getting home to really pay complete attention). Steve and Tony are in the car before they know it. As Tony drives, he looks over at Steve in the passenger seat. Steve’s eyes are fluttering closed and open again, head leading against the window as he fights off sleep. His left hand is resting on Tony’s thigh and his thumb rubs gently along Tony’s worn jeans.  
Tony clutches the steering wheel a little tighter. His mornings may start rough, with spilt cheerios and a screaming toddler and an exhausted Steve. But damn, if they don’t end fucking fantastic. 

 

/// 

Domesticity. That is the word Steve has become obsessed with.

When he wakes up and reaches clumsily for his phone, he reads that it is 9:03 in the morning. And what the fuck? Unless the apocalypse happened over night, leading to both Tony and Pete’s death, there really is no logistical reason for the fact he has managed to sleep that late. Confused, he rolls out of bed, throwing on the first sweatshirt that’s lying on the floor along with sweatpants. 

He can hear 80’s music in the kitchen. He could laugh out loud about it if he hadn’t just woken up. As he grudges down the stairs, the music becomes clearer: Everybody Wants to Rule the World. 

He finally reaches the kitchen and now he knows no apocalypse has occurred. Tony must have decided to be Superdad today and let Steve sleep in completely. 

And with Peter being as much of a handful as he is, Steve understands how meaningful the idea of it all is. 

Tony is cleaning the countertop skillfully with one hand as he holds Peter in his other arm against his body. He sways with him gently to the music, despite its’ upbeat rhythm. 

Steve nearly tackles them both when he gets sight of them. He’s running up to them from behind and wrapping both his arms around the two. Tony nearly yells, jumping in surprise as he clings to Peter with both hands. 

“Fu—Jeez. Dang it, Steve.” He breathes heavily for a second. “And you almost made me swear in front of Little Man right here!” He adjusts Peter in his arm against his hip and swats at Steve in the bicep with his free hand. 

Steve hugs Tony closer, squishing Peter a bit in the process. He leans down to kiss Tony quickly and then plants another kiss on top of Peter’s head.

“Thank you for letting me sleep today,” Steve says softly.

Tony hands Peter off to Steve, not even realizing it. Steve accepts the toddler to his chest and holds him carefully as Peter’s head lulls into the crook of his neck. It’s just their song and dance at this point. The way they take care of Peter – it’s synchronized. It’s muscle memory. Sometimes, Tony doesn’t even need to think about it, he just knows Steve will comprehend whatever Tony’s pondering and finish the idea for him. 

“Anything for you.” Tony replies, swallowing thickly after, rubbing a hand behind his neck. It’s not like it’s hard to say these things anymore, no. Tony is far past self-destructive tendencies and fear of vulnerability and things of that nature.  
But still, sometimes it scares Tony just how much he adores and loves Steve. 

It sometimes alarms him just how much he cares, how much he would do for Steve. 

Peter reaches for Steve’s sweatshirt drawstrings and pulls lightly with his chubby fingers and Tony turns the music off. Peter mumbles more baby jargon to Steve and Steve listens like it’s his one, single job. Like his life depends on it. 

Tony pouts, frown in full force. “You never look that interested to hear me talk about sciencey things.”

Steve laughs, and Peter squirms in his arms. “You never say anything as interesting as Peter, I guess.” He teases. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Let me be sure to bring in the baby talk next time we’re in bed.” Tony sarcastically quips.

Steve can’t help the cackle that escapes his lips. “You’re terrible.” Steve’s code for ‘you are perfect. Radiant. The love of my entire life. My everything’.

“And yet, you married me. Sucks to be you.” Tony ends with a classic and beaming, know-it-all grin. Steve is obsessed. 

“Let’s go, idiot, Disney Jr. awaits,” Steve takes Tony’s hand and pulls gently, leading them to the living room.

This used to never be in Steve’s future. The whole marriage and baby, domestic husbands and whatnot. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve this kind of lifestyle.  
And he definitely doesn’t know what keeps him going sometimes.  
But an hour later when Peter falls asleep against his side and Tony falls asleep with his head in Steve’s lap, snoring so softly with a hand clutching Steve’s sweatshirt, well, that’s the only explanation he needs.


End file.
